CHAPTER 27

BÊTE NOIRE

❝ There is no way to hold something that is truly beautiful,

not without consequences.

There is a reason why roses have thorns. ❞

31st December 1924

It was the last day of the year, and Rose never thought she'd be spending it at Thomas Shelby's manor. But alas, here she was, a Champagne flute in hand, her newly tailored dress feeling too tight on her body. Sienna had suggested she wore red, said it was "her color", but Rose had insisted on black. She thought it fitting: all she wanted was to bury the old year and start anew. But now, between all the blues and beiges and golds, she felt a little out of place. Guests were staring at her, or better said, staring at her back and legs, which the dress left exposed. When she'd asked Sienna to make her a backless long gown with a side slit, her sisters had almost passed out, but Sienna had loved the idea, and delivered it just as Rose envisioned it. She even said she'd start making more in that style, that this would revolutionize fashion and help free women from society's suffocating standards.

Rose sure hoped so, but with goosebumps running all over her skin, she wished she'd at least brought a coat. She was glad she'd brought her red stilettos though; it gave her a little bit of her identity back.

"Stop frowning," Angeline hissed, at the same time she grinned at a waiter to distract him from snatching two drinks from his tray. "You're going to ruin the family picture."

"You should be thanking her." Audrey, as always, came in her rescue. "It's only because of whatever she has going on with Thomas that we get to be invited to a New Year's Shelby Party and ogle all these dapper men."

"And women," Sienna added, interested gaze roaming over sequin dresses very clearly not for professional reasons. Most of the women glanced back.

"Please, we all know the reason why the infamous Thomas Shelby invited us is due to his unending and shameless interest in me." Nicolas smiled, and that was the one thing that made Rose's frown disappear. Things between them had been... strange. Lighter, but Rose still wasn't used to Nicolas not being around her all the time, not catching his eye in every room. He'd been more distant, but that had allowed both of them to breathe.

"And what do we 'ave here, aye?" Whiskey glass in hand, Arthur stumbled in front of them, letting his gaze linger on every woman. Finally, after tripping over himself and spilling some of his Scotch, he pointed at Rose. "I remember ya, pretty flower. But who are these other angels you brought with ya? Are they gonna take us to heaven—"

He darted a drunken hand to Arwen, who offered him a salacious smirk. But before his fingers could touch her, a grip of steel circled around his wrist, and Nicolas came in between, tone more fatal than a name-carved bullet.

"I came here in good faith. But I must advise you. Any of you gentlemen lay a hand on the ladies, it will be the last time you have one."

Some guests around them swooned. Arwen rolled her eyes. "I appreciate the sentiment, Nicolas, but I can take care of myself. Besides, I kinda like this one. I think I'll keep him for tonight, have some much needed fun. You want to see heaven, you say?" With a ballerina's grace, or the prowess of a lioness, Arwen tiptoed towards him. She was beaming as she locked arms with Arthur, who had the most stupid, foolish grin Rose had ever seen plastered on his face. "Oh, but hell is so much more fun, darlin'. Come on, I'll show ya!"

Just like that they were gone, but instantly John Shelby appeared in front of them, seemingly drawn towards them by Kaya's disgusted face.

"I can't believe Arwen would surrender herself like that. To a Shelby, of all men!" Kaya shook her head, dark curls framing her face, lips pressed into a displeased line.

"What's wrong with Shelbys? We don't bite, we just nibble," Johnny said, a lopsided smile on his lips as he took a wobbly step towards her. "Apart from Thomas, who is a controlling dickhead who acts like he's dead already, all of us love to have a good time. We love women, especially women who are easy on the eyes. Like you, love."

Kara's disgusted face turned to pure outrage.

"I'm easy on the eyes? Sweetheart, that's the only place I'm easy."

Johnny's smile grew bigger; Kaya's fiery demeanor tended to have that effect on men. "Oh, I like ya—"

"Do you now?" A shadow loomed over him, and a second later Alfie Solomons was rounding him, hitting him on the shin with his cane. It could have passed as an unfortunate accident, had he not done it repeatedly, with strong intention. Rose suppressed a smile. "Do you really, really like her?"

He came to stand beside Kaya, both hands tangled over the handle of his cane. In front of him, Johnny whimpered and clutched his poor leg.

"No, I don't think you like Kaya like I do. Scatter away, boy." Alfie shooed at him dismissively, as if scaring a pigeon away. Kaya had her brows furrowed, but the subtle quirk of her lips betrayed her. "Go find Charlie, eh, and play with his toys. Kaya deserves nothing less than a man."

For a second Johnny clenched his fists, craving a brawl. Then he shrugged, gobbled down another drink, and stumbled away. But now people were staring at them, staring at Kaya, in a way that made Rose's skin crawl. She moved aside to shield her from the glares, but Kaya had already noticed, always hyper aware of her surroundings.

"Why is everyone staring at us? Have they never seen a black woman in a pretty dress, being desired by two men in some fancy party?"

Rose's shoulders slumped. This was one of the many reasons why she hated high society, why, despite navigating through it, she'd never truly fit in. Not while they didn't accept everyone as equal, not while they kept their judging faces on.

"One as lovely as you?" Alfie gently took her hand, brought it to his mouth. The soft brush of his lips on her skin was enough to paint her cheeks a warm shade of pink. "Oh, I assure you they have not."

Kaya's gaze narrowed, piercing but with no real intention of cutting. "Compliments won't make me sleep with you, Alfie Solomons."

"Should I switch to insults, then?"

"They might work better, yes. Use your wits." Kaya's frown broke into a grin, and then Alfie whispered something into her ear that made her giggle, and blush even more, and they were being swept away by the crowd, falling into a world of their own.

"You don't mind if I leave too, do you?" Andrea asked, teeth worrying at her bottom lip. Her mind was far away from there, gaze glued to the stables where Finn and Isaiah took turns drinking from the same bottle, both gawking at her.

"I don't think that's a good idea," Renée said, narrowing her eyes at the boys. "Boys like them, who think they can have everything, who are never denied anything... don't forget first and foremost they're Peaky Blinders."

"I know I should stay away from them... but they're so handsome!" Andrea twirled around, cheeks rosy and eyes sparkling. The moonlight slid across her face, reflected off the S on her chest. It still pained Rose every time she saw it, but Andrea wasn't hiding it, which must be a good thing. "Besides, this is my last night here. I should at least make it memorable, non?"

A sting flared up Rose's chest, spreading from her throat to her stomach and back to her battered heart. Christopher and Renée would leave England in the following days to raise their baby in France, and Andrea would go with them, because that's what was best for her. After what had happened with the Saurets, she deserved to live a safe live. It had been Andrea's choice to go back after all, and even if the separation from Finn would crush her, it was for the best. She wasn't a true Kisser, much less a Peaky Blinder. This was no life for someone like her.

Rose would miss her terribly.

"Is it even just Finn?" Renée sighed, one breath away from defeat. "Cause sometimes it looks like you're dating both of them."

"I'm in love with Finn," Andrea said. Then her lips curled up, mischievous and undoubtedly French. "But Isaiah likes to join sometimes, and in those moments I think I'm a little in love with him too."

Shocked gasps rippled through the group, but Andrea gave them no room to argue, skipping across the dew-covered grass to the two Peaky boys, already waving the bottle at her and chanting her name.

"Miss de La Cour, I do not approve of this! I do not approve at all!" Christopher shouted after her, the veins under the cross around his neck impossibly strained. "That girl will be the death of me, I swear to God. Did no one teach her the appropriate ways of the Lord? Christ, is one Blinder not enough for her? Must she really have two?"

Rose chuckled; in times, she would have hated the idea of Andrea mingling with Blinders too, but Finn and Isaiah had helped save her, so they'd earned their chance. Plus, it was always cruel to separate young love, and it rarely ended well.

Tuning out the frenzied chatter and the upbeat tunes of a jazz song, Rose looked around. She averted the orchestra; the sight of violins pained her still, made her arm feel even number. It burrowed a hole inside her she didn't know how to fill in. For so long music had been the one thing keeping her afloat, keeping her human, and now that she'd lost it she no longer knew how to keep that part of her.

She saw Ada talking to James, and then Raphael pulling him away to some secluded corner, where they'd be hidden from judging eyes. Arwen and Arthur, dancing barefoot on the grass, both clinging to each other for balance, trying not to fall. Kaya and Alfie, kissing under a willow tree, partially shrouded by the night and the long fluttering leaves. Johnny, fumbling with a Kisser in his car. In the distance, the wooden walls of the stables shook from wild laughter and wilder love.

Rose let out a sigh, utterly defeated. She had tried so hard to make her gang and her girls stay away from the Peaky boys, but in the end, it was useless. They were mixed together like dye in water. You could no longer separate them, could no longer have one without the other. And maybe that was not such a bad thing. Maybe it could even be good. Maybe she and Thomas— no. That was different. She and Thomas were not colors in the water – they were blood in the mud, and Rose wasn't sure who was which.

For a while she wandered, the sparse stars in the cobalt blue sky her only company. She wasn't sure if she was trying to avoid Thomas or looking for him. They'd barely seen each other the past month, with Thomas too busy moving into politics and Rose too busy building her gang back up and deciding whether she would leave or stay. Deep down, she knew she was avoiding him because he might just be the person that made her feel whole again, and that scared her the most.

She ended up at the upper stairs, staring down at the living room, where the swirl of guests was even more hectic than outside. Sienna's voice, clever and clear, carried from the floor below, splinting the air in two.

"Society oppresses women because it fears women will oppress it." She was talking to two ladies whose postures were as regal as hers, letting one of them lit her cigarette. Polly. "I say fuck the rules and expectations of this retrograde society, women can be or do anything."

"Preach, let me drink to that." The tallest woman tipped her flute all the way, sipping every last drop. It was Lizzie in a dark green dress, catching Rose when she looked up. Rose knew she should leave or at least look away, stop listening. She did none of those things. "And fuck men. Fuck them all. Fuck Thomas Shelby especially, and his stupid cock."

As if summoned to badmouth her brother, Ada piped in, stealing an olive from Polly's martini. "What did my dear brother do this time?"

"Apart from sending his family to jail and let us rot there until he could use us to get what he wanted?" Polly sneered. She had such a presence to her, such a way to command words Rose tasted the bitter resentment in her tongue when she spoke. "He broke Lizzie's heart, that's what he did."

"Can you believe his nerve?" Lizzie snorted, reaching for a pale-rose drink only to glare at Rose from over the rim of her glass. "He said what we had was good while it lasted, but it could never happen again. He forbade me from marrying John, forbade me from seeing the Italian guy I was fooling around with, kept me wrapped around all his fingers, making me think I'd have the chance to marry him... just to discard me like this. Like some fuckin' used tissue he no longer stands to look at."

She blinked back her tears, all the while holding Rose's gaze. Rose had gotten a new horse recently – a Friesian stallion, because she had a soft spot for them. The horse reminded her of Noir, with its thick mane and agile force, but with much worse temper. He was as unpredictable and untamed as a wild horse, always mistrustful of humans and rather lonely. Rose had seen herself in him, which was perhaps why he had let her come close to him. She'd named it Bête Noire – a person or thing one particularly dislikes or that annoys them, the bane of someone's existence. The horse had been that to his previous family – always refusing to obey their orders and play into their whims, he was mistreated for it, and so Rose had given him a new, loving home.

Because she knew what that was. Throughout her life she had been a bête noire to so many people – bullies at school when she defended the younger kids, the nuns and generals she challenged at the war hospitals, businessmen and politicians who looked down at her, Tavish and the Saurets. Like the horse, like Thomas, she was a nuisance. When others did not allow her to take up space in the world, she conquered it.

By the way Lizzie was looking at her now, Rose was sure she was her bête noire too.

"You deserve better than him, Lizzie." Ada gave her shoulder a comforting squeeze, having to tiptoe in her heels in order to do so. "You deserve more than a man who's only half a man. Maybe this is for the best."

"You say that like it's easy to let go of him. You don't know what it's like to love someone who looks at you like they want your heart but will never give you theirs."

"Well, I do." Rose's ears perked up; she'd know that gentle, gravelly tone anywhere. It was Nicolas, with a gin and tonic in hand and a kind smile as he stared at Lizzie. Even from upstairs Rose saw something shift in her face – a trace of interest and possibility. "I'm Nicolas, by the way."

"Lizzie Stark." She offered him his hand. He took it gently, brushed his lips over her pale skin. Rose felt it like something physical, tugging at her guts: losing the only part of him she still had, his tenderness. It was no longer for her, and that was okay. "I'm suddenly very glad I'm not yet a Shelby."

Nicolas chuckled, wrinkles forming around his interested eyes. Rose had never seen him like this, so free. Until this moment she hadn't realized how much her love weighted on others, how much it chained them down. She was glad Nicolas had cut the rope tying them together, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt.

"You need not become one. From what I've heard, I think we both deserve better? Someone who's not only half there when they're with you."

"And you think we'll find that tonight?" Lizzie sipped on her rosé, looked at him through her lashes, gaze half-lidded but entirely awake.

"I don't know," Nicolas said, brave and true. "But we can try."

Rose turned her back then, thinking she'd already intruded too much. When she spun around, Polly Gray was in front of her, red lips puckered over a half-consumed cigarette, inquisitive eyes flipping through her soul like it was a book she'd already read a thousand times. She measured Rose from head to toe, snickering at her black dress, even tighter now. Rose felt suddenly suffocated, as if Polly's stare was a physical thing around her throat. She wasn't used to seeing a rose so unabashedly proud of her thorns.

"So this is the woman that caused a filthy Scot to visit me in prison." Polly circled her slowly, hunter to prey, before leaning against the banister like she owned the entire place. "So this is the woman that goes around killing men with her devious mouth."

Rose didn't gasp. She'd figure if anyone would know who she was, it was Polly. Still, she would have liked to know if her tone hid indignance or admiration. She couldn't tell; with Polly, they sounded the same.

"I can't believe it took Tommy so long to figure out who you are. One look at you and I can see you were born with the devil on your shoulder." Polly paused then, for dramatic effect, taking a long drag of her cigarette. When she exhaled, the smoke hit Rose straight in the face. "Just remember, my dear. Better a devil on your shoulder than one on your bed."

She walked away then. Rose should let her go, should let her have the last word, because she was right, because she was Polly Gray, and she saw the future in tea leaves and had ruled a gang from the dark long before Rose did. But Rose couldn't help herself when she said, "Depends on the devil, I'd say."

"Well, then," Polly stopped on the first step to look over her shoulder, a sly smile gracing her thin lips. "Mornings are always a good time to repent."

***

Andrea's lips were cherry-red and bitten when she found Raphael in Thomas Shelby's music room. He had his head between his hands, foot incessantly tapping the lavish carpeted floor.

"Where's James?" She asked softly, sitting beside him on the leather couch. It was cold under her bare thighs; she'd made herself a scandalizing short dress, and all her hard work had paid off upon seeing Finn and Isaiah's astonished faces gaping at her.

"He left a while ago." Raphael raised his head, traced the bruises on his knuckles with a careful finger. After losing his job because of the fire at La Vie en Rose, he'd decided to become a professional boxer. Rose was helping him; the gang would benefit from the bets. She needed someone to rival Alfie Solomons' Goliath, and if there was anyone who could go against him, it was Raphael. But that didn't mean Andrea wanted to be there to witness it. "I don't think... I don't think what we have, whatever it is, will last long."

"Why not?" She tilted her head, saw her reflection in the window. The perfect picture of demure and innocence, if not for the reddened S beneath her collarbone. She would always hate the sight of it, but she wouldn't hide it. It was part of her now, and if anything, it helped to give her a sense of danger even more real than the knives she hid in her garters. She still didn't know how she would explain the mark to her parents, how she'd be able to fit into the peaceful life of Amiens after the turmoil that was London, but she was ready to find out. And it wasn't like she'd leave forever: she had every intention of returning. Her brother was here, and so was Finn. Finn, who'd kissed her on the stable hay until she couldn't breathe. Finn, who she thought maybe was the love of her life. She'd always come back to him.

"I think we're from worlds far too different. He's thinking of going to Ireland to chase his dream of being a writer. And I'm going to stay in London, become a big name in the boxing world. I told him he'd better dedicate his book to me and send me a signed copy, and he told me only if I finally came in first at the championship." Raphael laughed, but it was humorless. His eyes were the saddest shade of blue. "I guess I have extra motivation to win now."

Andrea patted the back of his blond hair like Raphael used to do to her when they were little and their feet could barely reach the ground. She was only now realizing it was a comforting gesture for both people.

"You really like him, don't you?"

Raphael's shoulders stiffened. His entire body went rigid, on alert, the same way it did when he was blocking, preparing himself for a blow. "Of course. He's my friend."

"Raph, come on..." She stroked his hair gently. She hated that this was a world where her brother had to live in fear simply for being who he was. Raphael, who'd saved her countless times, who always had her back. It was time she repaid the favor. "I've lost count to how many times I heard you sneaking out of our apartment in the middle of the night to go to James'."

Raphael flinched, snapped his head to her, eyes big and vulnerable. "You heard us?"

"Mon Dieu, non, not like that! You were quiet enough." She giggled, delighted at the crimson blush spreading all over Raphael's baby face. "But it's obvious you like him as more than a friend, and if you have to hide that from the world, just know you'll never have to hide it from me."

All at once Raphael's hard features softened, his shoulders drooping in relief.

"I don't know how I'm going to do it without you, sœurette."

"You'll manage. But you have to be true to yourself and your feelings. I've seen the way you look at James. It's beautiful, Raphael. There's nothing wrong or ugly about it."

Raphael shook his head, the weight of the world threatening to curve his shoulders further. He clutched his head as if he could stop his thoughts from happening, then let out a defeated, worn out sigh.

"No. I'm a man. I'm a boxer and a gangster, for fuck's sake. I like women. I can't like... I can't like men as well."

"But you do, Raphael." Andrea grasped his hands before he could start scratching at his own skin. She couldn't imagine what that was like, to be so uncomfortable in your own skin you desperately wanted to get out. She hated the world the most then, for doing this to him, to the person who always protected her world the most. "And that's okay."

"No, it's not, I—"

"It is, Raphael, it's okay. It's what you feel – and there's nothing more precious than that. If you love women, love them. If you love men, love them. Who cares what society says? Fuck them. They're wrong about so many things, and they're wrong about this as well. I dream, you know? I dream of a world where a sister will not have to hear her brother's heart breaking just because he likes someone society forbids him from liking. I dream of a world where you can be free, where you can love who you love without receiving hate in return, where you don't have to live in fear or shame. I dream of a better future, because it has to be better than this."

You, clawing at your own skin because you hate what you feel. And me, carrying knives in my garters because men see me as easy prey.

The smile Raphael gave her was forlorn, laced with future nostalgia.

"Every future is a good one as long as you're in it."

She gulped. She didn't like leaving Raphael like this, but she knew the other Kissers would always have his back. "I have to go back, Raphael. This life... I'm not cut out for it. But I'll return. Or you'll return. We'll see each other again, you won't get rid of me that easily."

"I wouldn't want it any other way." His smile turned truer, but then he inspected her face. She whipped her head to the side, but it was too late. "You were with Finn, weren't you? Christ, I heard Christopher grumble something about body shots... was it you two?"

"Yeah." She shrugged, grin wild and free. "With Isaiah."

"Jesus Christ, you're worse than I am!" He shoved her shoulder lightly, but he was laughing too. "I hope they treat you right."

"They do. You don't disapprove of Finn anymore, do you? Don't forget he helped us with the Saurets."

"Yeah, he's alright. And good looking, I'll give you that. Not as much as his cousin but—"

"Michael?" Andrea shrieked, her appalled voice echoing across the room. "Don't tell me you're interested in—"

"What? God, no, I'm still very much into James, thank you. I'm just saying he's a fine-looking man." He rubbed the heels of his palms on his temples as if to scare off an impending headache. "Wait, why are you grinning like that creepy cat from Alice in Neverland?"

"Alice in Wonderland, you mean. And I'm grinning because you finally admitted you're into James."

"Fuck." Raphael's eyes widened, then crinkled. "Fuck, I did. I really am."

She tapped his hand then, like their mother did whenever she was right about something and her kids finally understood it. "Then, you shouldn't let him go like that. You can box in Ireland. Or he can write his books here."

Raphael bit his lip, but his body lunched forward, as if he was ready to make a run for it, to grasp that feasible sliver of a future. Still, his voice was at its most vulnerable when he asked, "But what if we get caught?"

Andrea sighed. As well-intended as he was, her brother could be really dense sometimes. "Raphael, you have both the French Kissers and the Peaky Blinders backing you up. I think you'll be fine."

"You're right. Fuck, you're right." He got up abruptly, wiping his sweaty hands on his tapered trousers. He darted towards the door, then spun back on his heels to plant a kiss on Andrea's forehead. "Thank you, sis, I owe you one."

"Yeah, yeah, and because I'm such a good sister, I'll even sleep over at Audrey's today just so you can have the apartment all to yourself and be as loud as you want."

This time, Raphael's smile was real and wide when he waved her goodbye.

"You're the best!"

author's note.

had to get a little bit of Raphael and Andrea in here because I love their sibling relationship, hopefully you liked this scene too as I think it's particularly powerful and meaningful with Raphael coming to terms with his bisexuality and Andrea exploring polyamory (I bet you weren't expecting that hehe). love who you love yall <3

I apologize for the lack of Tommy in this chapter, but the next one will be entirely in his POV so stay tuned for that ;)

also Lizzie and Nicolas!! what are your thoughts on that? I've always wanted to put them together in the end because Lizzie deserves someone who values her and loves her right and Nicolas deserves happiness and he'd never get that with Rose. I think they're quite perfect for each other as they've both been in similar situations and suffered a lot with one-sided love, so I really wanted to give them a happy, requited love story ♡

the image in this chapter is ofc the dress Rose wears which will drive Tommy insane in the next chapters 🤭